Dead Frontier/Issue 122
This is Issue #122 of Dead Frontier, titled Drift. This is the second issue in Volume 21. Issue 122 - Drift The next few days pass in a blur of the usual mundane worry, amplified by a lack of food and medicine, and Lienne's vacillating condition. Notebook in lap, Cole pauses his writing and glances around the truck's interior. Lienne sits to his left, an arm wrapped around her abdomen and her lead set against the chilled window. Ivy sits in the seat farthest back, and her pen scribbles wildly along a sheet of paper. They're liabilities, in Cole's eyes. The kid, the cripple, the recoverer. They wait, as inside a small convenience store, the rest take part in the necessary weekly supply gather. Music spills from the radio to counter the absence of any conversation, and he waits. It really is all he can do. He picks up his pen once more and continues writing. There's no real order to it--his thoughts pour onto the page in a jumble of messy handwriting, and he's soon flipping onto the next page, and the next page, and the next one. "What do you write in that thing?" Lienne asks, and Cole nearly jumps. He clicks the pen and closes the notebook slowly to cover up the embarrassment that he doesn't know is still completely obvious to her. "Hey. I thought you were sleeping," he says, and she shakes her head. He sees her eyes shift from his own and down to the notebook. He shrugs. "It's just...whatever." "Yeah, that really explains it." He smiles and shrugs again. "I mean, it's not anything important. Writing's just easier than talking so...I put stuff in here. Instead of...saying it." "And he wrote a story," Ivy says, finally looking up from her paper. "He let me read it." "Ivy, really? C'mon," he groans, and Lienne almost wants to laugh. But the amusement leaves her immediately when she sees that Cole looks almost...upset. Embarrassed, of course, but there's something else there that she can't really make out. "I guess we all need an outlet," Lienne says, and she leaves it at that. Cole gives her a grateful nod for not prying further. Not long after, Jake beckons Ivy after finding a large source of books and a few board games. She flees the truck with uncontained glee and meets him near the storefront. "How've you been?" Cole asks after a few minutes alone with Lienne. The song on the radio fades out and switches to a new one that's oddly exciting. He almost wants to shut it off but he resists the urge. She turns her head again and shrugs. "I'm okay. A lot of pain, still," she says. "Do you...need anything? If--if you do, just ask." She takes a few moments to think. "I could always use...a good story." His grip tightens on the notebook, as if every word he's written inside will flood out if he doesn't keep hold of it. "Very funny," he says. She smiles--it's the first time she's done so in the last couple of days. "Did you get her into it? The story writing stuff?" He nods. "It helps her a lot, I think. And her imagination is just--crazy. So it's a good fit for her, getting all of her ideas out somewhere. Keeps her quiet for a while, too." "You really love it, don't you?" "Love what?" "Writing. I can tell. You look so into it." "Oh." He scratches his head and turns his eyes toward the window. "I guess. I kind of have to do it. It's the only thing I was ever really interested in, or good at, so..." He gives her a fleeting glance, but his head is soon turned toward the window again, where far out, a long stretch of grass meets horizon. "You shouldn't be so embarrassed by it. It's good," she says. He sighs and reaches behind him to retrieve a small backpack. He unzips it, drops the notebook inside, and tosses it into the back seat again. "It's because it's not just a stupid little story that I wrote in there. It's everything." He doesn't know how else to explain it. Every frustration and annoyance and--on the flip side--every delight and satisfaction blankets those pages. It's not something he's really keen on sharing. Lienne notices his tone has taken on a near-hostile quality, so she lets the topic die out on its own. ---- "Were you a NASCAR driver?" Farrah asks Cedric. She stands above him, and he's in a crouch as he searches a lower shelf. "No," he replies. She's been asking him questions non-stop these past few days, utterly fascinated with the skills he displayed behind the wheel when getting away from that herd. "How the hell'd you learn to do that, then?" He just shrugs and rises to his feet. He holds out a can for her to put in her bag, but she crosses her arms. "Stunt driver. Movie sets and all that. That's it, right?" "No," he says, pulling the strap of his bag over his head. He unzips it and places the single can inside. "Why are you so damn nosy?" he asks as he puts the pack back on and they continue walking. "Can you blame me?" He ignores her and picks up his pace. However, she easily keeps up with him. They turn into another aisle, and he lets out a final sigh of frustration. "Okay," he says, and he turns to her. She stops, waiting patiently for him to continue. "You really wanna know that bad? I was a street racer. There." "Street racer...? Like the Fast & Furious illegal kind?" she asks. He nods. "That's it. I stopped doing it--a long time ago. Back in New York." Unfortunately, that only bumps up her intrigue even more; he can tell by the quick change in her expression. "Why? Did you get caught?" she asks. "No. There was an accident and...a lot of crazy shit happened after. I told myself I wouldn't drive anymore." "At all?" He nods. "Because of one accident?" He continues on walking, and she waits a few seconds before following. "I wasn't even racing when it happened. This...lady, she just came out of nowhere, into the street. I didn't have time to stop so..." He clears his throat. "Oh. I heard about that," Farrah says. It's a distant memory, but the news story sounds familiar: a pregnant woman, run down in the middle of the road. Hit and run, and the perpetrator no where in sight. ---- "'I'm heading to a do later.' Know what that means?" Hunter asks. He's diverged to a corner of the store with Lucy, nothing of interest catching their eye. Empty shelves, dusty storage lockers--it's all a familiar sight. "A 'do?'" she asks. He's been testing her on all of these odd British terms, most of which she's never heard in her life. But she goes along with it anyway. "Yeah." "I don't know...what's it mean?" "It just means party. Really simple. Heading to a do, same thing as saying you're just going to a party. I've got another one, though. I know you know this one. You ready?" She gives him the go-ahead, and she can swear he's holding back a smile. "Wanker. Should I use it in a sentence?" "No--no, you shouldn't," she says with laugh. "'After a nice wank, Johnny--'" "No, seriously, I quit this game." "Ah, no fun," he says. "Just take that shelf, I'll take this one." Reluctant, and a little disappointed their game is over, he follows her order and scans the shelf to his left. It stands tall and rusted, each section filled with various different items. The trouble is finding what to take and what to leave behind. There are a couple of seemingly random food items: jelly, cereal, peanut butter, crackers. He doesn't bother checking the expiration dates on any of them. In the aisle right behind the shelf, he can hear Farrah and Cedric talking. He smiles to himself, slightly amused by Cedric's obvious frustration with her. He crouches and resumes his search; down here, the food is less abundant, and he grimaces at the sight of a dead rat. "Disgusting," he spits out, and he rises to his feet and begins wiping the dust and dirt from his pants. "I wasn't even racing when it happened. This...lady, she just came out of nowhere, into the street. I didn't have time to stop so..." he barely hears Cedric say on the other side of the shelf. Hunter freezes, blocks out everything else, and focuses in on their conversation. "Oh. I heard about that," Farrah says. Cedric nods. "I couldn't...get her face outta my head. I thought I'd end up doing it again--hurting someone else. So I stopped. Completely. I--" "Excuse me," Hunter says, turning into their aisle. He's going through a clear struggle to hold himself together; his eyes look almost psychopathic, and he wipes a moist hand across his face. "Lovely conversation. Really." He marches toward Cedric, but Farrah stops him with a hand to the shoulder. "Are you okay?" Farrah asks. "Wh--what are you doing?" "I'd appreciate it if Cedric could just repeat what he said. Please." "You heard--?" Cedric begins. "You hit a woman with your car, yes? Back in the safe zone?" Hunter says with an odd calmness. Cedric takes a few steps back, then stops, deciding it's better to stand his ground. “It doesn’t matter, man.” “What’d she look like?” “Why the hell--what’s wrong with you?” Cedric asks, and he decides to take a bold step forward. “Please, just answer the question. Please.” Internally, his anger hasn’t subsided, but outwardly, that rage has been replaced with something more dejected and desperate. Cedric is shaken by the sudden change, and he’s rethinking whether this is really a question he should answer. “She was...blonde,” Cedric says warily; it brings back too many harsh memories for him to explain the woman’s appearance, but Hunter’s pleading demeanor alone pulls the words out of him. “And--and pregnant. I thought she was and they--they reported it on the radio.” ---- Hunter scarfs down a spoonful of soup. It’s actually tasteless, and nearly devoid of color, but it’s all he and Karen have to eat today. She sits across from him, trails of smoke rising up from her untouched bowl. A book sits open in front of her, and she examines it closely. “Carly,” Karen says, and she looks up at Hunter, expecting a response. “No,” he says, and slurps up more of his soup. “Why not?” “Because we’re having a boy. I’ve told you this too many times. C’mon.” "You never know." She shakes her head at him and turns to a completely different section of the fat book. "Jonas," she says. "No." "Lucas?" "Hm," is all he says, and she turns the page. "Max. I like Max." "That one's not too bad, actually." He pauses. "I really like it." "Finally," Karen groans. It's taken forever, but she's finally gotten some approval out of him. "We still need one for a girl." "If we pick one for a girl, we're just lowering our chances of having a boy." "How would that even work, Hunter?" she asks, grinning. "It's science. Carl Sagan said it. Or it might've been Bill Nye. Don't remember." "'''You' said it. And you're not a scientist."'' "I never told you I worked for NASA?" he asks, standing for his table. He walks to the sink and places the bowl on top of the rest of the quickly-piling dishes. "No, you haven't." "Ah, minor detail," he says and he walks over. He sets his palms on the cold surface of the table and leans in close. "But when '''Max' gets here, maybe I can get back into it." He smiles at her, and she returns it with equal warmth.'' ---- As soon as it's over, Hunter's not sure what's happened. His hands are aching, bleeding, as he sits on the grimy tile of the store. Around him, he hears yelling, but it's as if he's drifting in and out of some kind of dream state. One moment, he's here, but the next, he's trapped in another memory. Someone tugs Hunter roughly to his feet. He stumbles as he works to keep his balance, and ends up holding onto a nearby shelf to keep himself upright. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" Duke screams in his face, grabbing him by the arm. "He killed--" Hunter begins, then rubs his eyes with his sleeve. He can see someone tending to Cedric, the side of his face a tortured, bloody mess. "My kid is dead because--" Duke's face changes, now wholly sympathetic. But he keeps his hold on Hunter just as tight. He can tell, that as he speaks, that rage is determined to return, although Hunter works to keep it at bay. "What the hell are you talking about?" Duke asks. "He killed--both. Both of them." Hunter pulls his arm away and takes a few steps backward. The entry of the aisle is clogged with the others; at first, they observed the scene, terrified. Now, Hunter's calm exit has their minds spinning. Hunter pushes past them, and no one makes an effort to stop him. He's out the door, past the cautious figures of Jake and Ivy. Lastly, he stops in front of the truck, and Cole and Lienne watch him warily. His busted hands out of use, he gives the truck a kick, and Cole leans himself forward to open the passenger side door. "Hello," Hunter says neutrally and he adjusts himself in the seat, keeping the door open. Cole's attention focuses on Hunter's mangled hands, and then on the fact that Hunter appears to be perfectly fine, other than that injury. "What the hell happened to you? Are you okay?" Cole asks. "Yes, just peachy. Giving myself a little time-out." Cole looks at Lienne, her expression of worry and confusion easily reflecting his. "Don't look at me like that," Hunter says, eyeing them in the rearview mirror. "I'm fine." His look is nearly spine-chilling, and Cole gets a dreadful feeling in his stomach. He sees Adam and Tora appear from the front of the store, and he swings his door open. "What the hell? Don't leave me in here with him!" Lienne calls out, but Cole waves her off. "I'm gonna be right here." He exits the car and makes sure the put full pressure on his left leg. "What the fuck's wrong with him?" "He fucking beat Cedric half to death in there," Adam says as he approaches with Tora by his side. "Where is he?" "You probably don't want to talk to him," Cole warns, but Adam ignores him. "Yo. Hunter," Adam says, leaning against the truck and peeking his head in at Hunter. "What the hell was that?" "I don't really want to talk about it," Hunter says calmly. "You really don't have a choice." They go back and forth for a while, Hunter struggling to uphold his composure and Adam's frustrations rising. "What happened?" Cole says to Tora, and he makes sure to keep his voice down. "We heard yelling, we ran over, and he's just--punching Cedric," Tora says. "Then he just stopped. Out of nowhere." "Is Ced okay?" "I don't know. It looked bad. Really bad, Cole." They flinch at a sudden yell from the passenger seat. "Would you fuck off?! Do I look like I want to fucking talk to you?!" Hunter screams, and Adam takes a few steps backward. He looks at Cole and Tora for some kind of assistance. They freeze, just as nervous as he is, but Tora soon decides to step forward, and she crouches in front of Hunter. “Tora, you shouldn’t--” Adam begins, but she cuts him off. “It’s fine,” she says, and she makes sure to keep her eyes on Hunter. “Hunter, tell me what happened.” Her voice is firm, but also filled with enough sympathy to make him rethink answering in the same manner he did when speaking to Adam. “I--I don’t know,” he says, which is almost the entire truth. He can’t remember actually pummeling Cedric; only what happened before and immediately after. “Let me fix your hands up, and then you can explain. Okay?” He nods, and in return, she smiles at him. ---- “It was a while before the crash. We got into an argument and she went to her friend’s house. Daniel, actually, came to the door and told me she’d been...hit. And the driver had fled the scene.” They’ve moved to the other truck, and Hunter explains the grim memory to Tora as she gently wraps his hands in a thick, white bandage. She doesn’t interrupt and offers him kind nods as he speaks. “I can’t stay here with him,” Hunter says quietly. “You have to.” “No. I can’t...look him in the face everyday. I can’t.” “He didn’t want to hurt her--” “It doesn’t matter! You expect me to forgive him and be done with it?!” She knows she has to choose her words with care as his temper rises exponentially. “There’s no other option for you,” she says. “You have to stay.” “I can leave. I don’t have to stay here.” “You’re not leaving. You know that’s a death sentence.” He winces as she completes the bandage on his right hand. She tears the bandage and wraps it tight, then moves on to his other hand. “I’ll kill him if I see him again, Tora. I can’t--” He knows he said the wrong thing, based on how she stops wrapping his hand for just a fraction of a second. Then, she continues. “I don’t think you’d do that.” Even she’s surprised by how honest she sounds, and Hunter relaxes visibly at her words. He wants to think he as much self-control as she’s suggesting, but he highly doubts it. He sighs, exhausted and in too much pain to discuss this further, and their conversation slips into an uneasy silence. ---- Cedric wakes with a groan, and as soon as he moves, someone pushes him down with a gentle hand. “Shouldn’t do that,” Farrah says. Her blurry figure soon comes into view, along with the details of the area around him. He figures out quickly they’re in a tent, and after a few moments he can make out blankets, pillows, and a lantern in the corner. His face is swollen and bruised; one of his eyes is blackened to the point where he can’t open it at all, and the other is just a small slit he can barely see out of. “What the hell…” he mumbles. “Hunter kicked your ass,” she says. “What?” “He overheard our conversation.” “About wha--” he starts, then he’s hit with a flood of memories from the commotion of just a few hours ago. “Wait. Was that his--his wife or something?” “Girlfriend.” “Fuck…” “We’ve got someone on watch so he doesn’t kill you.” “...I’ve gotta talk to him.” Farrah laughs, but subdues it when Cedric looks at her weirdly. “You think I’m joking?” she asks. “He’s fucking furious, Ced.” “It was an accident--” “He doesn’t care. And this is Hunter--he’s not really the most level-headed person here.” She can tell he’s not feeling the full weight of her words, or the seriousness behind them. “Don’t talk to him. I’m serious, Ced.” ---- “You’re quiet today,” Cole observes. He occupies a tent with Lucy, lying down while to his left, she forces herself to appear interested in the book she’s reading. She closes the book and gives it a gentle toss across the tent. “Harsh. Was it that bad?” “Terrible,” she says. She gives him a glance, and he looks as if he’s expecting a more elaborate response. But her thoughts have already shifted far from that mediocre book. “Are we really kicking him out?” Hunter's fate has been on her mind for most of the day, ever since Adam proposed getting rid of him after their departure from the store. “It’s a group decision, I guess,” Cole says. It’s clear that his words don’t put her at ease. “What are you thinking?” “We can’t send him out on his own. How fucking heartless is that?” “...We’ve done it before.” She’d nearly forgot about Winston, out there, forced to traverse this land on his own. “That was different,” she counters. “He was gonna take our stuff and leave us to starve. Hunter’s not a bad guy.” Still, she’s not sure if Cedric would’ve been spared if no one intervened. “Then vote against it,” he says. “There shouldn’t be a vote at all.” She sighs out of frustration and lies down next to him. “What are you gonna say?” He honestly doesn’t know yet. If neutrality was an option, he’d take it. “He would’ve killed him, if nobody stepped in. I think you know that. I don’t really know if I...want him to be here,” he says. If she’s upset at his choice, she doesn’t show it, instead replying with nothing but a stoic expression as she looks up at the tent’s low ceiling. “If you were Hunter--if you were in his exact position--what would you do?” she asks, and now, she does look at him. His lack of response reveals his hypocrisy fully. He’s killed out of vengeance before, and remembering that fact makes his stomach tighten up suddenly. “I’ll sleep on it,” he decides, dearly wanting to flee this conversation. He gives her a quick peck, then reaches to his left to turn off the lantern that gives the tent its only light. Category:Dead Frontier Category:Dead Frontier Issues Category:Issues Category:Walkerbait22's Stories